We, who stand alone
by IrreversibleMistake-xx
Summary: It wasn't a good image for a priest to have a teenage mother for a daughter. He wanted to send her away to a boarding school. Away from Troy. And she couldn't deal with that. Troyella, Oneshot.


**We Stand Alone**

**This is the heaviest piece I've wrote in while, and in personal opinion, one of my best. It is inspired by (not based on) the Will Smith film, 'The Pursuit of Happiness,' and explores family dynamics, rejection and standing alone. Please do review, I'd love constructive critique on this piece. Also, I'm accepting requests and trades. Please enjoy :)**

**Rating: PG-13 for adult storyline.**

**Warning: Very slight drug ref.**

Gabriella strode forward, her head bowed to the wind that was slapping her cheeks. Pulling her coat closer to her body, she watched the pavement below her. The sky above her was dark, deep blue and black, almost pushing down on her. She nodded to Mrs Elsie,who was sitting by the door, taking tokens and counting.

"Hello Gabriella," She said, a warm smile cracking her full, happy face, frozen from the icy doorway. She walked slowly upstairs, gentle and quiet, trying not to move to much or make a sound. Unlocking the room, she shook the dark coat from her shoulders and laid Willow gentle on the bed.

"Mom?!" Her voice cracked, thick with sleep. She raised two chubby fists to her eyes and rubbed hard. In her head, Gabriella silently cursed- she hadn't wanted to wake her.

"Yes Willow," She said, looking down and smiling. _God, she's beautiful._ Of course, it's in a mother nature to say that, but her daughter truly was a future beauty queen. Her skin took hints of latina from her mother, and white from her father, making her look like a beautiful dusty rose. Her eyes were big and blue, with short, curly lashes. With short, bouncy hair that fell in corkscrew curls that mimicked her mothers, and plump red lips, she was a stunner by any meaning of the word.

"Where are we?" A sad smile furrowed her eye brow.

"We're at home." Home. What a stupid word.

Gabriella looked around mournfully. The dingy, double bed stood on a creaking frame in the centre of the room. There wasn't much else in the room. A small dresser. A sink connected to the wall. An old, unstable chair stool alone in the corner. She hadn't had a true home in years.

_The rain thrashed around her face, running down her face and mixing with the tears. Her jacket whipped around her waist, the denim failing to protect her from the stinging cold of the rain. Her hair slicked down and stuck disgustingly to her face. She sat down under the old, decrepit, tears and rain spilling down her face. She slung her duffel down on the floor._

"_Gabby?" She looked up and saw two stinging cold eyes staring down at her._

"_Troy!" She threw herself up, wrapping her arms tight around his neck and standing on tip toes to kiss him hard on the lips. He pulled away and placed his hands on her face, sending warmth trickling down her spine. She look into his eyes. They were searching her, for a answer, a reason, something._

"_I can't go back there, Troy."_

_Troy sat down hard on the weak bus stop bench, staring at the floor._

"_I need you to understand Troy. My dad, he looked like he could have hit me, he was looking at me like...like her __**hated**__ me," she mumbled, her voice concealed by the ball of tears rising in her throat._

_She felt an arm snake around her shoulders and pull her so close she could fell his heart beat._

"_I understand Gab, I understand." He said, resting his chin on her head as he felt her body shake with tears._

"_But where do we go from here? I'm scared Troy." She managed to stutter._

"_We'll work something out." The tears shook to a stop._

"_I need to know someone...somewhere, something still wants me." He took her face in his hands again. Then he slid them down her neck to her shoulders and shook her hard._

"_Gabriella! Don't be stupid. __**I**__ still love you and need you and I can't last without you. So what if we can't go back. We need to keep move forward, make a plan and get somewhere."_

_For the first time in what seemed like years, her face spread out into a smile. Somewhere deep inside of her, somewhere between her stoumach and her heart, it felt like someone had struck a match and lit a candle. She could feel the glow, shimmering from wherever it started, and spreading into her whole body, down into each finger and toe. It didn't matter if they had nowhere to go. It didn't matter if they had no one to turn to but each other. Because now they had a plan, they weren't just walk away from something with nothing ahead. They had somewhere to go. Troy placed his left hand on Gabriella stoumach._

_They had someone to fight for._

"This isn't like other peoples homes, is it Mommy?" Gabreilla sat on the edge of the bed, fussing and tucking Willow in extra tight.

"No, it's not baby." Gabriella grinned.

"Why don't we live in a house like everyone else?" A flash of indecision hit her. What to do? Tell her innocent, 2 and a half year old daughter the true story of how they ended up living in a woman's shelter? Or lie?

Lie.

"Things are just a little different for our family right now Wil," She leant over and switched off the light. "Now go to sleep."

She walked over to the chair, sitting with a heavy sigh. At twenty years old, she could barely handle thinking about it.

_Troy tightened his grip on Gabriella's wrist, pulling her along, and trailing the duffel along behind her. She trailed along behind him, tripping over her own feet, confused._

"_Troy! Where are we going!?" She asked, as he dragged her along the bus station hall._

"_Just wait."_

_He eventually stopped outside a door. Throwing the duffel in before them, he stepped inside-flicking on a light switch- and pulled her in behind. As the lights flickered, illuminating the room, she took in. Boxes were stacked around them, making in hard to move. A small, shattered looking sink stood in one corner. And that was it. Troy was dragging a heavy looking box against the back of the door. From what Gabriella could gather, Troy had led her into the bus station storage room._

"_What are we doing in here?" she asked, hitching her shirt straps up. For a moment, she watched Troy fumble with the stuck zipper on the duffel bag, before pulling out two coats and an old blanket. He lay the jackets on the floor, and sat down on one, placing the blanket over his legs. Then in clicked in Gabriella's mind; this was where they were going to sleep tonight. She switched the light off and lay down. The floor was cold and hard, bare concrete that was poorly shielded by the coats. She put her head in the nook between Troy's shoulder and his arm muscle. Gently, she snuggled into his chest,wrapping her arms around him._

_It took her several hours to fall asleep. Not only did the cold floor slap her skin every time she rolled over, the bus station was filled with busy commuters coming from long hours at the office, drunk collegiates on their way to the club district, silly middle-school girls coming home from the movies for a slumber party. She moved away from the Troy, who was already snoring, and sat with her back against the cold bricks. The tears had started falling and she didn't want him to feel them pooling on his chest. _

_The young middle school girls she heard through the door made her really sad. She couldn't tell Troy, not after how hard he'd worked to find her a safe place to stay, something to sleep on. But hearing young, teenage girls having fun, having nothing to worry about, it made her cry. Gabreilla wanted to go back to that place with Taylor and Sharpay. Laughing at movies she cringed about now, having pillow fights that got a little too out of hand, having secrets the guys knew nothing about. She missed them. She missed it all. She was so thankful, she truly was, but in her heart- she was terrified. The speaker outside announced last bus of the night._

_There was a loud bang on the door. Troy shot up, Gabriella recoiled against the wall. Two more bangs in quick succession. Gabriella's heart banged so hard she felt like she could feel it rattling her chest. She cast a terrified look at Troy, who was clenching his fists in defence, staring at the door._

'Someone knows we're here.' _was all that she could think. A squeaky voice came from the other side of the door._

"Just forget it then, bro,"

"What if Mr. Bollister finds out."

"Come on, you know he doesn't get out of bed until 9. Just come in early and put it away then."

_There was a mumbled noise of approval, and then two matching pairs of footsteps, getting quieter and quieter until they were gone._

Pulling off her clothes, she got into the creaking bed next to Willow, staring at the chipping paint on the ceiling. Rolling over, she settled into a comfortable position. She was just about to go to sleep, when she heard a gentle whispering coming from the other side of the bet.

"And bless my Mom and Me, and we're thankful for what you have already blessed us with."

A smile spread across Gabriella's face; so maybe Willow hadn't had a conventional up bringing- she knew she'd raised her daughter well.

"And God? Please keep Daddy in your arms, because he needs you." A tear fell onto Gabriella's pillow, snaking it's way around the smile still etched on her face.

"Yeah. Please keep Troy safe God." she silently agreed, knowing that wherever he was, he could hear her.

"_Please Miss, we have nowhere else to go!" Troy begged, pulling his suitcase along behind him and Gabriella's bag under his arms._

"_I apologise sir, but this is a **woman's** shelter. I can take your girlfriend, but you, I'm afraid."The woman's shelter in question was not much of a step up from the bus station. It was old and run down, led by volunteers,but it had heat and mattresses, so it was better than sleeping on a cold concrete floor again._

"_I'm begging you, she needs me with her, she's pregnant." The old, sweet looking black woman gave them a pitying smile._

"_I really am sorry, but my hands are tied." Gabreilla look at Troy, laying a hand on stoumach._

"_I'll be fine Gabriella. You need to stay in a bed. Somewhere warm._

"_But I don't want you to leave me," she said, holding his arms tight._

"_Just trust me Gabriella. I can look after myself." He pushed her into the arms of the kind old woman, carried her bags up the stoop into the hall, and walked away, turning around to watch her be taken inside and feeling a jab in his chest._

_She had fallen asleep quickly, relishing the hard, stiff mattress and scratchy blanket. She felt herself being shaken gently as she woke up, Mrs Elsie's face hovering above her wearing a worried look._

"_Miss Gabriella. Miss Gabriella!"she said. Gabriella sat up. Something was wrong. People don't use that tone for no reason. She kicked her legs over the edge of the edge, Mrs Elsie helpful the heavily pregnant girl to her feet._

"_What's wrong?" She asked, pulling her cardigan on over the underwear._

"_Just come with me. We had a call from Hope Hospital,"_

_Gabriella sat on back pew of the church, head bowed. Her face was obscured by a cheap, black headscarf._

"_And he will be greatly missed by all those who knew him,or even knew of him. He was loved by his friends, his family and his fans, who should all know he is in a better place, in the arms of God."_

_Gabreilla sniggered. Family? Neither Gabriella nor Troy had heard from their families in months, not since they'd ran away. Gabriella's father, the **honourable pastor** had been the one who pushed her away. It wasn't a good image for a priest to have a teenage mother for a daughter. He wanted to send her away to a boarding school. Away from Troy. And she couldn't deal with that. In fact, she hated her father, she hated him with every pore in her body, and she pitied her mother for having to live with him._

_If her father hadn't pushed them away, out onto the streets, then Troy would not have had to find somewhere just to rest his head whilst Gabriella stayed at the Women and Children hostel. He wouldn't have ended up staying a Hope Youth Hostel, when some guy on crack lost it and shot up the cafeteria. He wouldn't have gotten hit. If Mr. Montez had pushed is daughter away, Troy, the father of his granddaughter wouldn't have died from extensive wounds to the chest and arms. Before he got to know his own daughter. Sitting on the dark back pew, out of the view of her father and his eulogy, she thought privately, laying a hand on her stoumach, that maybe, because he didn't really know his daughter, sometimes her father was glad Troy never got to know his either._


End file.
